


The Guy on First

by Geonn



Category: Farscape
Genre: Action, Baseball, Gen, Hallucinations, Humor, Mind Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-24
Updated: 2011-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crichton convinces the crew of Moya to take a little break planet-side, but all isn't as it seems (when is it ever?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Guy on First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [openended](https://archiveofourown.org/users/openended/gifts).



Overhead, brown swirls danced in the humid air. It hurt his eyes, so he stopped looking at it.

John Crichton stood on the small mound of dirt and scuffed it with his shoe. It wasn't perfect, but it was close enough. He twisted and looked back the way he'd come, the rest of the crew trudging along through the blowing dirt as if they expected an execution on the other side. He had been doubly blessed this time; he not only had a planet with weather suitable for baseball - albeit an hour or two at a time - he actually had enough people on board for a real team. A couple of locals had agreed to learn the new game, and they'd be the opposing team. They were approaching the field with much more enthusiasm than the Moya crew.

He cupped one hand next to his mouth. "Come on, slowpokes! We got maybe an hour 'fore another one of those windstorms blows through here."

Their voices, though cast low, were carried to him on the breeze.

"Do we really have time for yet another Crichton obsession?" Sikozu griped, turning her face toward the sun and blocking it with her hand.

"At least we're not out sniffing for wormholes anymore," Rygel said.

"Leave him be." Aeryn's voice was calm, soothing, and it did him good to hear it. "He's been through a lot. If we have to suffer through a boring game to keep him sane, I'm all for it."

"Thanks for the support, sweet pea." He winked, even though he knew she couldn't see it or hear him. _Humor the human_ seemed to be their motto today. That was fine with him. The less bickering the better.

Crichton looked at the ball in his hand. It wasn't ideal, but it was smooth. The skin was leather, stitched together in an approximation of an Earth baseball. He tossed it a couple of times to get used to the weight. "Buy me some peanuts and _crack_ -er jacks, I don't care if I _ev_ er get back..." He pointed at Aeryn. "Second base."

She stared at him.

"Not the second base we... that's a different... thing. Remember what I said about the baseball metaphors for-- never mind. Just go stand over there." He pointed to the position directly behind him. "Dar- _go_! You are my man at third. Right back there."

"Third?" He seemed to consider it an insult.

Crichton patted the Luxan's arm as he passed. "Last line of defense, big guy. You keep 'em from getting home." He watched Aeryn move into position. She was wearing her standard painted-on leather pants, but what he wouldn't have given to see her in a pair of regulation pants and a jersey. Maybe with a grass stain up the side of one leg, pausing to dust the dirt off her rear end, tugging at the brim of her baseball--

"Where do I go?"

"Cheese...and rice, Chiana." She was standing right next to him on the mound, so close that his nose nearly bumped hers when he turned. "Don't do that. You... shortstop."

"Shortstop?" She jerked her head back, lifted her chin, and looked at the field. "You have D'Argo and Aeryn on second and third. Who's on first?"

Crichton immediately came back with, "What's on second?"

"I thought you said _I_ was on second," Aeryn called from her position.

He waved her off. "You are. I just--"

"Who is What?" Chiana said.

"I don't know, Chi!" Crichton barked.

"You're the one who brought him up."

Crichton put his hands on Chiana's shoulders. "You're butchering the routine, Pip. Just go stand over there between D'Argo and Aeryn."

Stark, who had hitched a ride for a quick jaunt between planets, looked positively excited about the game. "Stark, you are Lou Gehrig without the disease. Well, with a different disease. First base." He escorted Stark to his spot and looked at his remaining options. "Ryg, you go hover behind home plate. You're the catcher. You toss me anything that the batter doesn't hit. Sikozu, Granny Goodness, you're center field and left field."

Sikozu trudged off with Noranti scurrying behind and giving a running dialogue of the rules Crichton had explained before they left the ship. Crichton wasn't sure if it was so she would remember them or to remind Sikozu. He looked over his team. They would have to live without a right fielder, but that was fine. "He-hah. Steinbrenner, eat your heart out."

He tossed the ball again and snatched it out of the air as he walked back to the mound. "Okay, folks." He raised his voice loud enough to be heard over the wind. "You guys, the Hometown Heroes, you try to get as many people around this diamond as you can. Touch 'em all and get back to home without anyone tagging you with this." He held up the ball. "And you got a point. But if we get three of you out, we switch places and it's our turn to try to get points. Everyone got it? Let's pla-ay ball!"

The bat was a piece of wood they found in a shop nearby. One of the locals said it was decorative, but sturdy enough for the purpose. Crichton tossed the ball and the first batter simply watched it fly over the base and impact Rygel's sled. Rygel barked and cursed while Crichton went to retrieve the ball. He spoke to the batter, explained how to keep his eye on the ball and swing, then looked at Rygel.

"You okay there, Sparky?"

"This game of yours is just an excuse to hurl projectiles at me, isn't it?"

"Who needs an excuse?" He jogged back to the mound. "Pilot, how are we looking on the weather?"

" _Atmospheric conditions are favorable for a length windstorm in your area, Commander. However I believe you have at least one arn before it reaches your current position. I wish I could have joined you for the game._ "

Crichton stood on the mound. "You and me both, Pilot. Those arms of yours, you'd be a regular Bugs Bunny." He tossed the ball back and forth between his hands for a moment, waiting for the hitter to be ready. The local man nodded, and Crichton lobbed an easy hit to him. The man swung and connected. The ball rose into the air and Crichton motioned for the man to run before turning to follow its trajectory.

"Sikozu!"

She ran to intercept, cupping her hands and squinting against the dust blowing into her face. The ball landed gently in her hands, and she looked at it for a moment before glancing toward Crichton. He started to yell at her to pass it to Aeryn, but the player had already rounded second. Sikozu ran, crouching ever so briefly before she launched herself forward. It looked like she was flying along the ground as she wrapped around the runner's legs and tackled him to the ground.

Harvey made elaborate gestures with his hands and arms, stepping into Crichton's field of vision. "Aaaaaaaaand heeeeeeee's oooooooooooutterrr heaaaah!"

Crichton ignored the Vin Scully wannabe. "You coulda just tagged him with the ball."

Sikozu rose and worked out a kink in her neck by twisting it quickly. "But that's hardly as much fun. I think I like this bases ball."

He refrained from correcting her and helped up the runner. "Third, you're on third. Sikozu, back to center." When he started back to the mound, he saw Harvey standing in his spot. He was wearing standard umpire gear, his mask pushed up on top of his head while he tossed a ball into the cup of his glove. Crichton clenched his jaw and joined him on the mound. "Outta my head, Harry Caray, I got a game to win."

"Yes, you do. But not this round of stickball. Did you know the Scarrans have a variation of this called Explosive Avoidance." Crichton stared at him. "It looses something in the translation. The ball is an explosive device which is lobbed at the player. The player knocks it away, and must invade the stronghold to touch three vital components before escaping free and clear."

Crichton said, "When you say the ball is an explosive, you mean metaphorically, right?"

"If it was metaphorical, it wouldn't be dangerous." He stepped forward. "Now, are you going to admit what is really going on here, or are you going to insist on playing this ridiculous game?"

John pressed his chest against Harvey's and pushed him back. "I got no idea what you're talking about! So why don't you just shut up and let me play?"

Harvey pushed back. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

They scuffled. Harvey grabbed Crichton's head, and Crichton threaded his arms through Harvey's to keep him from getting a good grip. Finally, they pushed away from each other as if they were matching ends of a magnet. "You gonna let me play?"

Harvey held out his hands in surrender and moved back. "Fine. Suffer your distraction until it's too late to do anything."

"Yep. Last second rescue, that's me. Ol' Last Second Crichton. Good in a pinch." The next hitter seemed reluctant to approach the base after seeing what happened to his teammate. Crichton waved him forward. "It's okay. No more tackling."

The man took position and Crichton pitched. The ball came flying back toward him and he grabbed for it, but he missed. It bounced and went straight into Aeryn's glove. She held tight to the ball and ran for first base, bypassing Stark who had both hands over his head to protect him from the inevitable impact.

"Aeryn! No, it's--"

She pulled her arm back and smacked the runner in the arm. He went down, and Aeryn placed her foot in the center of his back to keep him from getting up. She turned to face him and held her arms out in a shrug. "Do we win?"

" _Commander... you're in grave danger._ "

He looked at the sky. There was a swirl of brown dust in the air, but nothing serious. "The dust storm? You said we had an arn."

" _Commander! You must wake up!_ "

Crichton squinted at the swirling dust. The sky seemed darker than it should have been. "Hey, Pilot. What time did you say it was down here, local time?" Gravity seemed weird, and his knees went weak. He heard D'Argo and Chiana shout his name and then he was flat on his back. He looked up into the swirling dust as the sky turned pitch black night. No. Not night... it was the dark of Moya's hangar bay. The dust was smoke, billowing from the ship of refugees they had just picked up.

He rolled onto his stomach and lifted his head, scanning the room as his head continued to swim. Part of him still believed he was on the planet, down one-oh. One of the refugees was unconscious a few feet from him. It was a member of the opposing team from his hallucination. He got to his feet, stumbled into the wall, and forced himself to continue forward without falling flat on his face. Sikozu was sitting with her back to the wall, staring glassy-eyed at the ground until she saw his feet. She followed his legs up, past his chest, and finally to his face.

"No, no, I couldn't possibly eat anymore."

"I'll be back with your check, Sputnik." He had to use the wall for support as he moved farther into the ship. He could hear sounds of battle, but he couldn't tell where they came from. He had two options; he could either go up to Command or protect Pilot. He debated briefly before he decided on Command. If Pilot could call to him for help, then he probably wasn't in mortal danger. He hoped.

The more he walked, the easier it became to stand upright. When he reached Command, he found the door standing open and plumes of the gray-brown smoke pouring from within. Chiana was sprawled on the floor laughing hysterically at something. Two men dressed like the locals from his hallucination were jabbing helplessly at the panels in a futile attempt to gain control. Both men were wearing plastic shells over their faces that made their heads look like giant green pistachios. Components of the control panel were scattered across the floor, aborted attempts to make the ship work by breaking it.

"I can't get anything! I can't even vent the _ecra_."

Winona wavered dangerously as he brought her up, and he forced himself to hold the weapon steady before he spoke. "That's because you're trying to hijack a Leviathan, cuz."

"One of the Sebaceans is awake!"

The refugee/hijacker grabbed his weapon off the platform, but Crichton shot it out of his hand. The man yelped and ran. He shoved Crichton as he ran through the door. In his weakened state, Crichton dropped Winona and she skittered across the floor. He reached for her, but only managed to get his hand on one of the components that had been tossed aside. A round component that fit his palm.

He got to his feet. "Bottom of the ninth, two outs. John Crichton has the wind-up..." He brought his leg up. "And the pitch." He hurled the component, a whistling fastball that connected with the hijacker's helmet. It wasn't enough to knock him down, but it did crack the smooth curve of the glass. "Damn."

He went back into Command, where the other hijacker was still fumbling for control. Crichton picked up a pipe and wielded it like a Louisville slugger. "High drive into left field, back... back!" The hijacker picked up a weapon but Crichton knocked it aside. "A-waaaaaaay back..." He swung the pipe again and cracked the hijacker's mask. He went down, clapping his hands over the glass as he tried to block it with his hands. "It's _gone_!"

The hijacker was screaming, too distracted to fight anymore, so Crichton retrieved Winona and knelt next to Chiana. "You okay there, Pip?"

"Crichton! Wait your turn!" She giggled lecherously. "Aeryn's still getting things ready for you."

Crichton rolled his eyes. "And I got stuck thinkin' about baseball. Typical. Pilot!"

" _Commander! Are you still--_ "

"Back in the bush leagues, Pilot." He examined the control panel. "What the frell is going on?"

" _We discovered their ship drifting, life support failing! We brought them aboard on your suggestion. The smoke seeping from their engine soon filled the cargo bay and incapacitated both you and Officer Sun. Soon it had spread throughout the ship._ "

"All right, where is everyone now?"

" _Officer Sun and Ka D'Argo fortunately hallucinated wartime scenarios. They have been unknowingly defending my position from the hijackers._ "

"That's good, though I don't think it was necessary. These guys didn't seem to know what they had. Where's the one that got away?"

" _Currently sitting in the middle of a corridor speaking to himself._ "

"Get a DRD to keep watch on him. Get a couple of them, actually." He pressed the heel of his hand against his temple as he turned to go in search of the rest of the crew.

#

Aeryn strolled into the cargo bay and stood underneath Crichton's position. He was hanging from a swing, aiming a DRD at the wall as it used a thin beam of red light to solder something in place. She waited until he was done to speak. "So, Pilot tells us you saved the day."

"Inferior human brain did not fully accept the gasses. Better ain't always better, baby." He released his sling and dropped to the ground. He put the DRD on the floor and patted it on the rear side. "Go on, play with your friends. You and D'Argo have a good time with your little wargames?"

She grinned. "Fantastic. And I heard Chiana had _quite_ the hallucination. She was actually angry at us for giving her the antidote."

"Yeah, I'll bet." She turned to walk beside him as he left the cargo bay. "Pilot walked me through a filtration system that will keep anything else that toxic from spreading ship-wide. We shouldn't have any more wild and wacky dreams."

"Speaking of wild and wacky," Aeryn said, "Pilot never told us what your hallucination was about."

"I could just show you."

Aeryn snorted. "Now I'm worried it will be something similar to Chiana's."

"Nothing that fun. But fun." He slung his arm across her shoulders. "Next planet we find with the right conditions, I'm going to treat you to a good ol' fashioned American baseball game."

"Is that a threat?"

Crichton started singing as Aeryn leaned away from him. " _Take_ me out to the _ball_ game... _take_ me out to the crowd..."

Behind him, the DRD he had let go whistled the rest of the tune as it skated across the floor.


End file.
